


Find Your Way

by Ashei



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashei/pseuds/Ashei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of retelling of the end of the third Hobbit movie, mostly from the point of view of Thranduil and the elves. Spoilers for any of you who've yet to see the film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Your Way

As he moved among the eerie silence of the once lively Dale, he reached a pale hand up to meet the falling snow. Cold flakes kissed the tips of his fingers before fading away and melting into nothing more than droplets of the past. He watched in wonder as the water ran down his arms and trickled off his armor. At the sight of his trembling hands, he released a long and weary breath. The after effects of the battle were beginning to show... He felt his body stiffen as it tried its hardest to subdue the tremors running through him.

He made sure to be careful as to avoid touching any of the bodies at his feet as he continued to move about. Men, Elves, and Orcs… most had been mutilated beyond recognition and it pained him to see his own men spread across the cold stone. Their golden armor, once bright with life, dulled in the early morning light. He had failed to protect them. To bring them home as he’d promised upon their march. They were dead and lost forever. He stared into their lifeless eyes, their gazes haunting and unpleasant reminders of the past. He knew that if he closed his eyes he would see the memories of previous battles and the losses that came with them. Blinking quickly, he tried to move past the unpleasant feeling gnawing at his heart.

Upon opening them again, he felt ill. A sudden wave of nausea made him dizzy as he reached for something to steady himself with. Despite his hardest attempts to look away and focus on something other than what caught his attention, his gaze quickly returned to the sight. He took a step forward with a heavy heart. His long platinum-blond hair drooping over his shoulders flowed with the light breeze, the snow and ashes clinging like lost spirits to it.  He kneeled down and stared.

A young blond-haired boy sat upright against a collapsed stone pillar. Perhaps he had been older than what men would have considered a child, considering he was armed… but his face still showed innocence only children knew. But he had _seen_ the darkness and cruelty of the world firsthand and taken part in it alongside his kin. Perhaps he had not been quite so innocent. In his last moments he had probably resented the world he’d been born into and selfishly wished his death upon another so that he could live. As his breaths had left him, his fogging eyes had searched for a familiar face. One he could hold on to in death. One he could hold hands with, so that he could be reassured before darkness took him.

The boy’s eyes stared dead ahead, making it seem as though he were preparing and waiting for the next enemy to approach and attack. The fear was still visibly etched into his frozen face. He held his rusted sword close to his chest, where a deep fatal wound decorated his stomach. No…he had already met his enemy in battle. It had defeated him and taken him away from the warm light of the sun and the serene beauty of the moon.

“My lord Thranduil,” a voice spoke behind him, “is something amiss, sire?”

“Has Legolas returned?” the king’s voice rasped out as he turned and stared around himself.

“Not yet…none have seen him return as of yet…he was last seen following Tauriel.” the soldier trailed off as he watched the Elven King thrash about and move among the bodies, desperately searching but still careful to avoid the dead. He moved to grab the king and to reassure him that the prince was safe… but he did not know this for certain. Many of those he had thought would make it through the battle had not survived. They had perished among the flames of Smaug.

Thranduil felt his heart pounding against his chest as he roamed the ruins. Some of his men came scurrying with concerned expressions, but he ignored them completely. The worried shouting became but whispers to his ears. He did not want to find his own son sitting against a wall dead and alone. The king would not be able to bear it. Not again.

He knew his actions were not kingly. If anything, his men would see his worry as a sign of weakness. But…he could not bear another loss. His queen, the light of his life, had already been ripped from his arms years ago. He had witnessed her death with his own eyes upon the battlefield. Her last breaths of life forever haunted him now.

“Call your forces back.” He commanded suddenly, sheathing his sword as he turned away from the crowds of men gathering in the town square. With a nod the other soldier pulled a horn from his side and blew into it. The king closed his eyes as he stood to wait for his men to return. “I tire of these lands…I have spilled enough of our blood here. No more.”

“You cannot leave!” a voice echoed within the crowd, “Lord Thranduil, _please_ listen!”

“I have had enough, _wizard.”_ The elf growled in annoyance. “What more will you ask of me?” He turned to look the old man in the eyes as he asked “ _what more_?”

In that moment Gandalf felt the deep pain and torment the elf suffered on a constant basis. His eyes unveiled the unspoken truths, their vulnerability making the wizard avert his own gaze to the ground. It was too much. He bowed forward as he spoke, “Thorin and his nephews…they have fallen into a trap on Ravenhill. They must be warned…I fear they…” He trailed off, praying the other would lend his sword one last time.

“You have plenty of men to take on such a task,” Thranduil’s voice hit like a spear. “Thorin Oakenshield and his sister-sons are no concern of mine.” And without another word, the elf took leave of the wizard and marched towards his retreating soldiers and quickly disappeared among golden elves. Gandalf gripped the hilt of his sword as he thought of what to do next. The dwarves were finishing off the enemy before the gates of Erebor, the men of Lake-Town were no warriors… He shook his head just as the small Hobbit, by the name of Bilbo Baggins, crept up behind him.

“I’ll go.” He offered in a small voice.

 

 

As Thranduil neared the edge of the ruined city, he was met by his banished captain of the guard, Tauriel, who stood like a statue blocking their path. Her red hair was like a wild fire blowing in the wind. The severity in her eyes made his narrow in disgust. She dared to stand against him? After everything he had done for her? She spoke in a low voice, as if to intimidate him, but he did not heed her words. He stared so intensely at her that her voice was nothing more than garbled hums. The king assumed she was trying to persuade him from leaving Dale so they could help the dwarves. His eye twitched in irritation when Tauriel raised her bow threateningly and pointed an arrow to his face. Within seconds he lashed out, mostly in anger of her blatant betrayal, his sword destroying the very bow he’d gifted her upon her coming-of-age. The weapon snapped loudly as the drawstring whipped the female-elf in the face just below her eye.

Tauriel’s hands trembled at the sight of the broken shards of wood, tears forming in her eyes from the loss and burning sensation on her cheek. For years she had treasured the weapon and kept it dear in her heart. Now it was nothing more than a broken twig. As she stared down at it with burning eyes, she realized how easily she could be replaced in the halls of Mirkwood. Perhaps there had been a time when the Elvenking had considered her a daughter…but such days of happiness had long ago passed. Upon naming her Captain of the guard, he had begun speaking more formally and distantly. The bow had been among one of the last gifts he had offered her.

“Look at me.” The king commanded coldly.

Tauriel defied and kept her head low, knowing she could no longer look him in the eye. Was it the shame she felt for betraying her king? Or something else?

 _“Look at me_.”

When she made no indication of compliance, he forced her head up with the point of his blade. She flinched at the icy feeling of the steel pressed against her skin.

“There was a time you could not stand the sight of them. Now you would die for the sake of the _dwarves_?” he seethed as he moved closer to her. “Are they worth the sacrifice?” He lowered his sword upon the sight of one solitary tear trickling down her bruising cheek. “It is the young one, is it not? You fancy him a great deal according to what Legolas mentioned of him.” She bit her quivering lower lip as their eyes met, “what you _feel_ is not real. You do not _love_ him. How could you? He is a dwarf you’ve known for barely a day. No, Tauriel, you have confused and tricked yourself into thinking you truly love him.”

Tauriel felt her heart sinking to the deepest depths within herself as the king grabbed her by the shoulder. She barely noticed his grip on her. His words stung like venom. What if it was true? Even so, plenty lives been lost to the fires of Smaug and battle. No more needless suffering. It had to stop once and for all. Releasing a shaky breath, she tried once more to convince her king, “even so, even if my feelings are wrongly placed… I cannot let them die, we must …”

“I will not risk the lives of my people for that foolish bloodline.” Thranduil affirmed angrily. “If you have any sense left within you…return to the Woodland Realm.”

She would not give up so easily. In some ways, she was just as stubborn as the dwarves were. Thranduil watched as her eyes flared with a newfound fire. Roughly, she shoved the king’s arm off her and backed away from him. Some of the elven soldiers drew their swords and stepped towards her, ready to strike her down for having harmed their ruler. Thranduil held a hand up to stop them however. He tilted his head down at her, his expression filled with disbelief at the idea of his own kin helping dwarves. _An elf moved by a dwarf? Ridiculous_ , he thought to himself. The younger elf turned on her heels and was just about to rush out of Dale when the Woodland Prince emerged. Tauriel whipped around curiously at the sight of the other walking into the small clearing.

“Tauriel, hold. I will go with you.” He looked to his father, his king, silently pleading him. However, Thranduil would not budge on the matter and simply glared down at his son. Now his own family would defy him. “We may still make it yet.” The Elvenking quickly noticed the relief and gratitude in Tauriel’s eyes when Legolas raced off alongside her. As he stood watching, speechless, he felt another presence rush by him. Something evil. Something incredibly powerful stood before him. He reached for it, grabbing at empty air as he stumbled forward rather ungracefully.

“Should we go after them, milord?” a voice inquired from behind the king.

“Hm,” Thranduil hummed as he watched his son and captain become nothing more than dots in the horizon “No,” he answered loud enough for his people to hear. He balanced his long silver sword in his hands, contemplating his next move as he ran a finger along the intricately designed blade. The elves moved restlessly when the king did not speak for some time. Many seemed compelled to go after their prince and offer him aid, from what Thranduil could make of their low whispers. Legolas was quite capable of handling himself in battle. Orcs, spiders, or goblins were no match against the prince. The king had experienced his fighting style firsthand during their lengthily forest scouts. 

As he stood in thought, the mid-morning breeze tickling his face with snowflakes, he felt a shudder course through him. The memory of his late wife’s last moments clear in his mind. It had been a terribly brief farewell. One he never wished to experience again. They’d exchanged few words in the last few seconds of her life, much of it had been silence.

 He had known in the moment that her body had been broken beyond repair, he’d heard the sickening sound of breaking bones, but he’d stubbornly refused to come to terms with reality. Upon trying to remove her from the battlefield, the screeches were blood curdling and she had begged for it to end. Thranduil had insisted on moving her but his order was immediately refused, placing a hand to his face she had whispered to him in choked breaths, the blood gurgling in her throat, _“it is over, my love.”_ When silence had fallen between them, the king had leaned over her wounded body and pressed gentle kisses to her pale forehead. All had watched this precious moment, knowing their king would forever be changed by it. He would emerge from the battlefield a much colder and ruthless ruler than he had ever been.

 His wife, staring up at him from her position on the cold ground, noiselessly pleaded to do what she could not. Kneeling at her side in the midst of an incoming raid with their hands entwined, he’d made a solemn oath to her. To protect what she cherished more than her own life. His promise made her smile as a single tear fell from the corner of her fogging eye.

Mustering the last of her strength, she had reached out to give him something she clutched in her hand. Thranduil had accepted it grimly. As she placed it in his hands he had immediately recognized it as a pendant he had long ago gifted her, upon one of their first encounters in the Woodland. It glimmered faintly in the light of day, reminiscent of a star.

He recalled her bright smile as he’d been dragged away against his will, his men pulling him with a great desperate force. The king had been unable to break free of their grasps. Her face being engulfed by the swarm of orc filth was the very last thing he recalled of her. The body of his beautiful queen had never been found. Nothing. Thranduil had but the memories and child she’d left behind.

 _Legolas,_ he stared in the direction his son had gone. The young elf owed the dwarves nothing, yet he marched off into battle. It was mostly due to his love for Tauriel that he fought. Would Thranduil not do the same for the ones he loved? As he stood looking into the distance he remembered the vow he’d made to his dying queen. Her words echoed in his mind as he took a step forward. _No_ , he thought, his decision was not solely based on his promise.

“Remain here,” he ordered his men, quickly adding “all of you.”

 

As he slowly made his way to the tower upon Ravenhill, nearing the stairs, he stopped to gaze downwards when his foot touched something. A small hand. He looked to the side, to the rest of the body. The blonde sister-son of Thorin’s lay at his feet, his golden hair matted with blood. Thranduil kneeled to touch the young one’s face, having thought he’d seen his chest rising slightly. No, it was but wishful thinking.

“ _Tauriel_!” Legolas’ voice broke the silence in the air. The Elvenking jumped to his feet and was about to take off when a loud booming crack alerted him to the breaking ice.

 He needed to move quickly. At first he walked passed the body, more interested in finding his own child. However, he struggled to move on. The mere idea of the boy forever lost to his kin made his heart wrench unforgivingly. Without further thought he ran back. Gently pulling the dwarfling into his arms, careful to avoid further harm to the body, he moved him towards the stone steps of Ravenhill. _This boy_ , he thought sadly, _was someone’s child; they will want to see him one last time._ When he reached what he deemed a safer location, he laid the dwarf to rest on the cold earth. One of his kin would surely find him when they came looking. Just before he entered the staircase, he noticed a wailing Hobbit bent over whom he assumed was Thorin.

He continued through the winding stairs to the top of the tower, occasionally stumbling over a broken step. More than anything he hoped to find his son and captain unharmed. Reaching the highest level, he was most relieved to see Legolas unscathed, for the most part. His face had a number of scratches and Thranduil assumed bruises were forming on his body due to the elf’s strained standing position. The king was about to reach for the younger when he heard a loud sob from around a corner. Closing his eyes, he knew it to be Tauriel’s cry. But this one was filled with grief and pain.

“Tauriel fought valiantly, my king,” Legolas whispered. He looked back towards the older elf, eyes glassy as he sadly admitted “but we could do nothing to save them.”

Thranduil, in that moment, dropped his kingly façade to pull his only son into a tight embrace. Such an emotional outburst left the younger completely shocked and unable to decide what he should do. The pain from his bruised ribs made him choke on the very air he breathed in, but he quickly relaxed at the feeling of the other’s hand on his back. This was not his king but his father, the one he had known in his youth. The one who’d carried him and raised him with double the love, to fill in for his lost mother.

“ _Adar_ …”

“ _Goheno nin…_ ”

Legolas leaned into the embrace as his father held on tighter, “you need not ask for forgiveness, _Adar.”_

Just as quickly the moment began, it ended. Thranduil released his son and surveyed him up and down. His mother would have been proud of him. He raised a hand to cup the boy’s cheek, “she loved you dearly, your mother. When she carried you, there was not a single day she stopped talking or thinking of her future child. You were everything to her, more important than life itself.”

“I know.” Legolas smiled faintly.

The king’s hand fell, he looked to where his captain wept, “Tauriel…”

“She will need your counsel more than anything now, there is none left for her in this world. Please accept her back into the Woodland…”

This confused the king slightly, “What of you?”

“I cannot return. Not now.” His son looked away, “I fear I would not be able to help her.”

They stood in silence for some time, Thranduil thinking on his child’s words. The wind howled around them as they looked to one another. The decision to leave now surprised him somewhat, but he knew Legolas would have left eventually.

“I have a task for you then.” The king announced suddenly, “Ride to Rivendell, seek out Elrond and ask him of the rising evil in our lands. Send word to me when you’ve found out.”

“And then?”

“Once there, you will likely encounter the young boy Elrond took under his wing. Teach him. Journey with him.”

Legolas’ brow furrowed at his father’s words. “A boy? Who is he?”

Thranduil would not reveal the child’s identity, for even he did not know for sure if he was who Elrond claimed him to be. It would be for his son to discover on his own. “ _Hope_ ,” was all he answered.

The elf did not press any further. He gave one final smile, respectively bowed to his father and disappeared into the darkness. The king would not see his child for many years, and the knowledge of the fact saddened him greatly. Still, as long as he heard from him occasionally, he would not feel so lonely. And there was the matter of Tauriel…

Turning, he made his way around the corner to where Tauriel sat cradling the brown-haired dwarf. His body lay limp in her arms. Tears fell freely as she bent over him, the pain she felt evident. Thranduil stepped closer and kneeled down beside her, waiting for her to speak.

“Is this what love is?” she asked between sobs, her grip tightening on the dwarf’s hands. “I do not want it,” she whispered hoarsely, “I...it is unbearable.”

Thranduil placed a hand upon her head as he answered, in the gentlest of tones, “true love hurts the most, young Tauriel.”

She looked up at him, eyes red and vulnerable. “How did you…?”

“It never fades away –the pain, that is- but you must learn to live with it as it is now a part of you. In time it will come.” He stood and held a hand out for her to take.

Tauriel wavered. She neither wanted to return home nor leave Kili behind. Leaning all the way down, until their faces were centimeters apart, her lips brushed his softly. She lingered only momentarily. As this happened she pressed the blue token he had given her in his hands, wrapping his cold fingers around it. Thranduil watched solemnly beside her. When she touched the dwarf’s face one last time, she reached for the king’s outstretched hand.

“Let us return home, Tauriel.” Thranduil whispered as he pulled her along. He was quickly reminded of when her parents had passed, he’d held onto her hand just as he was in that moment. She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly interrupted. “Your banishment has been revoked. A certain princeling wished for you to return.”

New tears formed in her eyes as she realized she could never thank Legolas enough for everything he had done for her. She allowed the king to lead her on, up until the moment they met with Thranduil’s army. A horse had been prepared for him in his absence. He quickly swung himself up and settled into the saddle. Tauriel took one last look behind them, at Ravenhill, where the memory of her love would forever remain. She once more took her king’s offered hand and sat behind him. 

 

“ _Wait_!” Thranduil watched as the Bowman’s horse caught up to his and galloped alongside him, “you leave now? Payment…” The man looked exhausted to the elf, it was a wonder he’d managed to muster up the strength to get onto a horse. His clothes hung limply, burnt in some areas.

“I do believe payment shall be received in the near future, lord of Dale.” The king looked the man over again, but quickly moved to stare at Erebor, “but it is not my current concern. I must return to my people, as must you. There is much to be done.”

“Aye,” the man agreed. He looked back at the ruins that were now the place he’d call home. There were still fires from the battle, but the city would not burn from such small flames. It was a much more promising place compared to the dingy wooden Lake-town that burned within seconds. “It will be difficult to repair… but I believe it can be done.”

“You will have no trouble from the dwarves.” Remarked the king. “Though I would advise you to not bother them for some time for the gold they owe you. Now is a time of grievance.”

“For us all. I am sorry for all the losses…” The man nodded sadly. With that, he pulled the reigns and swerved his horse back towards Dale.

 

On the journey back, Tauriel surveyed the remaining elves in the army. She could not spot Legolas’ face among them. For quite a while she looked the elves over, hoping she had simply missed his presence. When she inquired of his whereabouts Thranduil told her of his decision to leave for the time being. Eyes wide, she stared at the back of his head until he looked over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. Legolas had left?

“Gone? Where has he gone?” she asked, “when will he return?”

“He has left for Rivendell, and when he will return I cannot say.” The king admitted, “he will return to us when he deems the time right.”

“I see…” she clutched the fabric of her clothes, crumpling the green material it in her hands. It brought her little comfort as she sat behind the king. His words simply echoed in her mind.

Thranduil had not the heart or will to tell her Legolas had left because of her. Over time the two would come to terms with their feelings and sort them out between themselves. Whether they became involved romantically or not, Thranduil would leave the matter until then. He would make the healing of Tauriel his next priority, until his son returned with news of the world.

As the day turned to night, Thranduil found his eyes glued to the sky. How long had it been since he’d seen the starlight so clearly? He smiled fondly, recalling the many times he had taken his wife stargazing before the birth of their son. She had danced under the night sky, wearing silks reminiscent of moonlight. The king had never been fond of dancing in the past, but the sight of his wife had always made him want to join her. On most occasions he had. However, watching her had brought him just as much pleasure.

A single tear escaped his eye then, but he quickly wiped it away for none to see. However he knew they would not judge him, nor berate him as their king for his tears. At his back, he felt the trembling Tauriel. In time her wounds would heal and she would return to her former self, although not completely.

Her position as captain would be filled by another until she deemed the time right to return. He could not force her to take on duties in her time of grievance, it would be unfair and cruel on his part. Thranduil would allow her all the time she needed to heal from her wounds. Should she choose to not return to her position in the future, he would not hold it against her.

“We camp here for the night!” he called to his men when they reached the borders leading into the woodland. He did not dare to enter his own realm in the late evening when his people could be further harmed. The spiders were still about and darkness worked well to their advantage. They would surely strike if they went in now. Thranduil did not doubt the capabilities of his army, but he knew they were weary from battle. Countless comrades had been lost that day and many were now faced with the task of breaking the news to the families of those who had perished. Husbands, children, wives…many had left Mirkwood believing they would return.

As the army prepared a settlement for the night, Thranduil strolled aimlessly about the camp. He could find no rest in the present moment. A weight filled his soul, making him anxious. He moved passed his people with a distant expression, not wanting to be bothered as he thought. They acknowledged their king respectfully, bowing and nodding as he passed before returning to their own discussions. There was a grim atmosphere about the camp but Thranduil could hear a soft chorus in the background, the army lamenting the deaths. They sung well into the night, until the moon hung low and prepared to set.

“Dark times come…all will soon change,” he whispered upon standing on a hillside. He surveyed the lands around him before closing his eyes, relishing the feeling of the cool wind against his face. “…Travel safely my dear son...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'll continue this or not. Of course, if I see people are interested in this then I might consider adding more about Legolas and Aragorn. I've been writing this for the past few weeks and decided to finish after seeing the movie yesterday. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed~   
> Edit: I revised this story again today. A few details were added... I included a little more of Thranduil's wife, since I think she's an interesting character to explore. 
> 
> ~Ashei~


End file.
